Mysteries Behind a Mask
by scottedog43
Summary: Laura Tantrise is an American actress that gets herself stuck in London, England after being accused of murder. Can the famous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, solve her case or will it be more than he bargained for? Possible OCxSherlock.
1. 1 - The Case

**Before you begin reading this chapter, I just want to let you all know that this chapter is sort of an experiment for me. I made this oc a while ago and thought she'd fit well in the Sherlock universe. If you guys think I should keep writing this story, favorite it, leave a comment, or try communicating with me telepathically. It may or may not turn into an oc x Sherlock story… we'll see how this all turns out. Thanks for reading!**

"Alright, let's hear it," Sherlock said calmly, his eyes scanning the woman sitting before him.

"Well, first I should tell you a little bit about myself or this case won't make any sense," she said, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

"I highly doubt that," Sherlock scoffed.

The woman's eyes flitted towards the tall man before they shot to the window as if she were a confused bird trapped indoors, searching for a way out.

"Please, continue miss," John said kindly.

She sent him a thankful look before her eyes fell towards her lap. With a deep breath, she began her story. "I was always a social butterfly when I was little. I made friends so easily. All through elementary school I was friends with everyone," a small smile graced the woman's face as she recalled the memory.

"Excuse me, but what does this have to do with the case?" Sherlock asked in irritation.

He was mildly surprised as the nervous woman ignored him and went on.

"Around middle school, things started to go wrong. I lost old friends, gained new ones, then by the time I reached high school, I was alone again. I was left with nobody. I stopped speaking, stopped making an effort to communicate with anyone. I had terrible social anxiety that seemed to ruin my mental health."

"All irrelevant," Sherlock huffed, "I do have other clients."

"No you don't," John scolded.

Sherlock shot his friend a look before turning back to the woman. "Are you quite finished?"

"Almost," she sniffled. "I left my home town and went to a large college where I wouldn't be noticed, where I could become another face in the crowd instead of Laura Tantrise. Surprisingly I took up acting at that college. I learned how to be other people instead of myself. I found that when I was acting I could be somebody else entirely. So, I stopped being myself and acted every day of my life. After graduating I took up two jobs. One was acting in big name theatre productions, the other was..." she paused for a moment in thought, searching for a name that described the other career.

"I guess you could call me a professional liar, or perhaps a magnificent impersonator," she grinned, her nervous demeanor vanishing completely.

"Not a real job," Sherlock interrupted, unfazed by the woman's change in attitude.

"Not really no, I invented it, sort of like your job as a consulting detective."

"How do I know you're telling the truth, Miss Professional Liar?" he challenged.

"Well I would hope you'd know whether or not I was lying Mr. Holmes, you're observations are supposed to be quite excellent."

Her statement seemed to pacify Holmes for the time being and he nodded for her to continue.

"Every now and again somebody would hear about my peculiar job and ask me to perform a task. These tasks ranged from "pretend to be my date at this dance" to "slip into this place unnoticed, do something, and get out". Now, this finally brings us to the case I need your help with. I came here to do a simple job for a wealthy Englishman. The job was easy, yes, but... how I got the job was curious to say the least. I received a mysterious phone call from out of the country as soon as I returned to my apartment after the last night of my show. The man who called me told me the task; get into some guys house while he was there, get some information from him, have a few drinks, then leave a purse at the house when I left. I thought it sounded simple enough, and I was used to weird calls like this, but I never had to leave the country to do a job. The man on the phone informed me that a ticket and some money would arrive at my house the next day and I would leave for the airport in the car that delivered these things to me. I did as I was told, flew here to London where I thought I'd meet my employer, or at least one of his employees, but all I got were more phone calls and rides from silent men from place to place. At this point I regretted taking the job and tried to back out, but they kept reassuring me through their phone calls that the job was simple and the next day I could fly back home with more tickets they'd provide," the woman paused and took a deep breath. She was very good at appearing calm, but Sherlock noticed that her shoulders had grown tense as she continued to explain.

"I was so stupid, I should've dropped out anyway, but when I noticed that every stoic driver was carrying a loaded pistol I just kept quiet about my doubts. So I did the job, and I expect tomorrow you'll hear about it. The men that hired me framed me for a murder they had committed."

"How do you know about it?" Sherlock inquired.

"When the car didn't arrive with the plane ticket and my pay this morning, I figured something was up. All the calls I had received were from blocked numbers so I couldn't contact my employer to ask any questions. Getting desperate, I tried calling the man I had visited the day before. He didn't answer so I stopped by his house only to find the door unlocked and the man dead."

"And you would like me to find the real murderer and prove your innocence," Sherlock stated.

Laura nodded, her focus drawn to a small thread hanging off of her sweater sleeve.

The room was quiet for a moment, Sherlock no doubt thinking about whether or not this case was worth taking while John just stared at the beautiful woman before him with mild surprise. He glanced at Sherlock and realized he wouldn't be speaking any time soon so he decided to take a shot at getting to know this woman.

"I'm just curious, but why did you include your _life story_ in your description of the case?" he joked.

A shadow of a grin played at her lips, "I figured that would provide me with fewer questions to answer." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Aaaand it made my role as the _desperate client_ more realistic."

"You were pretending to be nervous?" he asked.

"Of course. I try not to let anyone see what I'm really like," she shrugged.

"Is this what you're really like?" John asked.

"What do you think?" Laura grinned.

John just shrugged, his gaze falling back on Sherlock. The curly haired man still didn't seem like he would speak, so John asked another question that was nagging at him.

"You said that you're from out of the country but... you don't speak differently than any other person here in London."

"That, Mr. Watson, also comes from years of acting, or magnificent impersonation," she said with a proud smile on her face, an American accent breaking through her British façade.

"Please, call me John," he said.

She smiled, "I'm Laura."

"I'll take the case," Sherlock said suddenly, preventing John from saying anything else.

Laura sighed with relief, "Thank you Mr. Holmes."

**Hm. Not exactly an exciting chapter… or an incredibly long one. But! I've got some ideas for future chapters that will be more action packed and thrilling! (If you guys think I should continue. .u.)**


	2. 2 - It Begins

** I didn't get a whole lot of feedback, but for those of you who commented and favorited/followed my story, thanks! As long as I have 1 or 2 people out there that enjoy my story, I shall continue to write it for you. c: Here's the second chapter. Nothing too exciting yet. Let me know what you think! I don't have a beta reader or anything so there may be some errors, but I hope it's not too bad. **

"Now, Ms. Tantrise, tell me everything you know about your employer," Sherlock said, leaning forward as if to soak the information from the woman.

"I can't tell you much, I thought I made it quite clear that I never even talked to the man," Laura pointed out.

"Yes, but tell me what you've deducted from your situation," he said, eyes not leaving the woman before him.

She sighed, "Well, obviously he is wealthy. He had a lot of black Porsche's to transport me around," she paused for a moment in thought. "They were all Panamera's if I remember correctly. I could be wrong though, I don't know much about cars. I guess I'll let you be the judge on what kind of vehicle it was."

The men gave her a curious look and she simply took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Sherlock.

He glanced at it, before looking back up at Laura. "A license plate number."

She nodded, "Of one of the cars I had taken. They were all identical with similar drivers, but I noticed their license plate numbers were different. I wrote down one of them when I was sure the driver wasn't paying attention to me."

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, "I guess you aren't as stupid as I thought you were."

Laura raised an eyebrow at the man, puzzled by his blatant remark about her stupidity.

"That's a compliment, believe or not," John told her.

"Huh," was all Laura could manage to say on the subject.

"Now tell me about the dead man," Sherlock said.

"The man I visited for the job was named Michael Follett. He was an expert salesman that mainly sold air planes which earned him quite a fortune. He was single, but obviously entertained women quite often. I'd guess that not all of his sales were legal…" she trailed off, trying to think of anything else that could prove useful.

Then, without a word, Sherlock stood and walked towards the door. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on quickly, turning to John and Laura as he tied his scarf around his neck.

"Take me to Michael Follett's house," he said plainly.

"Oh, of course. I'll just walk into the home of the man I supposedly killed, where there will no doubt be several police men waiting for me with guns at the ready," her voice was thick with sarcasm. "Also, I'm not from London; I'll just get us lost."

Sherlock frowned like a child told he wasn't allowed to go outside and play. "That isn't a no," he stated stubbornly.

"You're right, that isn't a no, but it will be if you don't give me some assurance that I won't get arrested the moment I show up at that house."

"I'll prove your innocence before inspector Lestrade can even reach for his handcuffs."

Laura smiled, "Alright then." She stood from her seat, readjusting her jacket and placing her hat on her head. "You're lucky I remember the name of the street. Once we're there I'll be able to find his house easily."

"Wonderful," Sherlock said, already walking out the door. Laura trailed after him, followed by John who had to stop briefly to grab his own jacket. Shortly after leaving the building Sherlock hailed a cab and the trio climbed in, Laura stuck in between the consulting detective and his companion. She told the driver the name of the road they were heading to before settling into her seat between the two men. Once they set off, she closed her eyes calmly, losing herself to assess her thoughts.

Ever since she saw the dead man her mind had been buzzing with awful visions of what was going to happen to her if she was blamed for the murder. She had been terrified, but suddenly she felt calm. She didn't really understand why. There was no guarantee that Sherlock could prove her innocence. There was something about him though, something that said he'd solve the case no matter what. Not because he cared for her well-being, but because a mystery was something that piqued his interest. Similar to her interest in being different people. It was a thrill. The only thing that seemed to give her mind something to do.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the cab coming to a halt. Laura opened her eyes quickly, her gaze falling on the consulting detective. To her surprise, she found that he had been watching her.

"Have you been doing that long?" she asked him.

"Not at all, just for the majority of our ride here," he said mater-of-factly.

"Some people would consider that a long time," Laura replied, quirking a brow.

"Those people don't know the meaning of the word 'long'," he added. "You know, you really are quite good at hiding your emotions. There wasn't a single sign of surprise on your face when I told you I'd been watching you."

Laura climbed calmly out of John's side of the cab, since Sherlock didn't seem to be moving. "How do you know that would've surprised me?"

"Normal people are surprised by the smallest things. A strangers eyes lingering on them for more than a few seconds for example. It is either considered rude or unsettling and that would mean it isn't "normal". When things are not normal, they tend to surprise average people."

Sherlock climbed out of the car to join Laura and John.

"Yes, I will admit that I was surprised, but I do the same thing. I didn't find it all that creepy," Laura shrugged.

"You stare at people like that too?" John gawked. "Why?"

"Observation! You can't perfectly impersonate people until you know every quirk, twitch, and facial expression of every person and what they mean. And occasionally, it's fun just to creep people out," Laura smiled.

"Unbelievable," John shook his head.

"Hold on a minute!" an irritated voice called to them. "Who called you in, Freak?"

"This young woman here, actually. She wanted to know what happened to her neighbor. Apparently when she asked around here she was treated very poorly, isn't that right Miss Farron?"

"Oh yes! I can't believe how I've been treated! I thought you blokes from Scotland Yard were supposed take care of people, but noooo! Luckily, I'm good friends with John. He told me to talk to Sherlock about this mystery going on next door, so I did," Laura said.

"That doesn't mean she is allowed at the crime scene," the woman said, completely ignoring Laura.

"That man over there isn't allowed here either, but he's certainly lingering close to my neighbors' house," Laura frowned.

The woman turned to see who Laura was indicating and, sure enough, a man that wasn't supposed to be at the crime scene was trying to peek in the windows of the house.

"Stay right here," she growled, "I'll be right back."

"Of course ma'am," Laura smiled.

As soon as the woman was gone Laura's smile disappeared, "Who was that bitch?"

"Sgt. Sally Donovan," John chuckled.

"I thought she'd never leave," Laura sighed.

"Come along now," Sherlock called, already entering the building.

Laura and John trailed after him.

When they entered the building they found themselves in an elegant entryway with a large staircase to the left. Just before the staircase was an open archway that led into the room where the body was. The trio entered the room without a problem, but when they were spotted, another cranky person came stomping up to them.

"Is this girl authorized to be in here?" the man asked.

"Well Sgt. Donovan let me in without any protests," Laura eyed the man carefully. "Don't you trust your girlfriend's judgment?"

"She's not-"

"Oh, I get it! An affair! How scandalous," she grinned.

Watson snickered and even Sherlock couldn't help but let a small smile break his business-like demeanor.

"How did you-"

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" another man approached the group.

"I was hired by Miss Tantrise," he replied simply.

Lestrade's gaze fell on said woman, and his brows furrowed. "You look familiar."

Laura stared back calmly, a smile on her face, "Do I? How curious, I'm not from around here. Have you ever visited-" she paused when she realized the man was paying her no attention. Instead, he was searching through his pocket.

Sherlock noted that Laura took an unconscious step away from the inspector. Then his eyes returned to Lestrade as he pulled a bag from his pocket containing what appeared to be a drivers license.

"I knew you looked familiar," the inspectors' eyes flitted between the girl and the id. "You're Laura Tantrise. You killed Michael Follet."

Laura took another unconscious step backwards. She didn't realize she was doing it until she bumped into someone.

"She's innocent, don't even bother trying to arrest her," Sherlock said lazily from behind Laura.

"Innocent? Look around you Sherlock! She's left behind enough evidence to prove her guilt. She might as well have written a letter that said 'I killed Michael Follet, love Laura Tantrise.'" Lestrade's voice rose slightly, his hands reaching towards his handcuffs. He paused when Sherlock continued to speak.

"Laura, give me your drivers license," the consulting detective said.

The woman did as she was told, reaching her hand into her pocket and pulling out a small billfold. She flicked it open and pulled out the rectangular piece of plastic, setting it into Sherlock's outstretched palm.

Then Sherlock walked past her and to Lestrade. He took the bag holding the id the inspector had recovered and took it out, ignoring the man's protests. A quick look at the licenses told Sherlock what he needed to know and he thrust them towards Lestrade.

"The one you had was an obvious fake. Did you really think American's had such simple licenses?" Sherlock sent the man a condescending look.

"Well I," the inspector sent Laura a quick apologetic glance, "I've never seen an American license before. I didn't know."

"You didn't think," Sherlock corrected.

Lestrade sighed, "I guess we've got some talking to do."

"Not us, you and Laura. Meanwhile, I'll be having a quick look around," Sherlock waved the inspector off.

The inspector's gaze fell on Laura and she sighed. "Thanks Sherlock," she thought to herself.

**One last quick note! I'm debating making this a Sherlock x OC story. Leave me a quick comment or message me what you think. Thanks for reading!**


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